


monster

by caelan_esque



Category: unOrdinary (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Constipation, Eventual Fluff, M/M, additional tags and characters to be added, just wanted to throw this out there, mentions of child abuse, no powers au (kinda), not sure if this'll be continued, slight roleswapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelan_esque/pseuds/caelan_esque
Summary: Arlo Armand is the personification of perfection. To the outsider's eye, at least. On the inside, he's breaking under the pressure. He's not sure how much more he can take.John Doe is the personification of mystery. Little is known about him, but for some reason Arlo is drawn to his carefree attitude and bright smile. Little does he know that John is hiding a dark past that threatens to destroy his life as he knows it.Or, this is a world where your social rank and your passive practically define you as a person. In the middle of it, a rising teen military prodigy named Arlo Armand attends the nation’s most prestigious military academy, and he never thought that one day, a supposed nobody with no outstanding attributes would set foot through the doors of Wellston Military Academy. At least, it seemed that way.[[This fic is on an indefinite hiatus, the author is having some life difficulties.]]
Relationships: Arlo & Remi (unOrdinary), Arlo/John Doe (unOrdinary)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	1. part one- prologue

Loading part one. . . 

> Successfully loaded. 

2:23 PM, WELLSTON INTERIOR PHYSICAL EXAM CENTER, 73º INDOORS

Reaching up to the next foothold, Arlo Armand scaled the seemingly never-ending rock wall with relative ease and speed. The heavy XXM-448 rifle slung over his back seemed to have no effect on him as he pulled himself up onto the platform high above the perfectly waxed floor. A fall from this height would mean suicide. Keeping his footsteps trained in the center, he ran across a thin ledge and paused at the end. A giant gap separated him and the next ledge. 

Aware of the instructors’ eyes on him, he backed up a few steps and leaped as he pressed a button on a device fixed to his belt. A rope instantly shot out and latched onto a metal rib crossing the ceiling. Without missing a beat, he climbed up the rope in a quick, smooth motion and took a large swing, twisting his body as he went, and landed feet first on the next ledge. Next up was a giant drop, then a whole obstacle field. He took those like a stroll in the park. 

Next was the target portion of the exam, which bled right into the obstacle course. It was meant to be one whole exercise, to test the fluidity, strength, and aim of the students. With one fluid, practiced motion, he spun the machine rifle around from his back to his front, cocking it. Arlo’s finger curled around the trigger and several gunshots rang out in the spacious area, the gun jerking in his hands, but nothing he couldn't control. All of the bullets hit the bullseye of the targets set up in a line. Next came the moving targets. Easy. 

He went through several more rounds of this, each level getting substantially more difficult than the last, with new twists to the exercise being incorporated every one or two of them. After almost a full, nearly exhausting hour, he was finished. 

“Extraordinary job.” Professor Thompson looked up from his papers, where he’d been marking down things the whole time, fixing his glasses. Professor Smithson shifted his in his chair beside him, simply nodding. 

“Thank you, sirs.” Arlo nodded his gratitude, smoothing the sleeves of his jacket, flicking a bead of sweat off of the back of his hand subtly in the process.

“As usual, all portions of your exam were phenomenal. I will notify you of your score later.”

“Yes, sir.” Arlo already knew what his score was. 100/100, per usual. 

“You are dismissed. Miss Carleton, please send in the next student.” 

Arlo saluted the professors and pushed the bar of the exit door open with a metal clunk, depositing his rifle in the rack before stepping out. Cool air brushed across his face and entered his slightly burning lungs as he slowly made his way down the brick walk. Everyone he passed quickly looked away or down, quickening their pace. The top student in the school, his reputation garnered much respect and fear from the student body. 

He was known to be a ruthless fighter. He specialized in defense and often, that was enough. Wear your opponent down, knock them out, and you were the victor. His body was unusually built, giving him a massive advantage over opponents. It was difficult to inflict any sort of damage onto him. It seemed as if his skin and bones were made of rock, thanks to his passive ability. 

He had worked hard to get to where he was. He trained relentlessly, stayed up nights studying, and cut off relationships if they hindered his way to perfection. And he made it. He was at the top. 

But often, he felt cut off and detached from the rest of the world. His standing as a military prodigy, the one who was practically undefeatable, his flawless record of victories and perfect scores seemed to affect his ability to interact with others normally. He felt as if he didn’t fit in. And he didn’t. He was perfection. He was what everyone strived to be. And it was killing him inside. 

“Arlo!” 

Arlo’s head snapped up quickly, the voice breaking him out of his trance. He was nearing the large circular courtyard where all the paths met. In the center of the courtyard sat a giant stone fountain, spewing jets of ice cold water. And sitting on the edge of it was a short, pink-haired girl almost his age. She was dressed in the Wellston female’s uniform. A blue bow sprang from the back of her head and her red-orange eyes sparkled as she waved at him.

Arlo took a small breath and relaxed a bit. 

“Remi.” 

He quickened his pace and then he was standing in front of her. She smiled up at him softly and patted the stone rim of the fountain next to her. 

“Sit here.”

Arlo hesitated, then took a seat beside her. Remi Leofwine was his closest friend, and she meant quite a lot to him. She was kind and caring, a cheery and sweet person who always put others before herself. She was practically a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dismal life. He had been introduced to her by her older brother, Rei, who had been the top elite in Wellston before he had graduated. He and Rei had been good friends, but he was later on murdered without warning, and the perpetrator was never caught. It still hurt to remember, holding Remi as she cried in his arms that day. From then on, she had stuck to his side, and Arlo didn't mind at all.

“Long day?” she asked quietly, mindful of the passing students. 

“Not really. I just got out of a physical exam.” 

“Ah. I know you aced that.”

Inside, Arlo cringed, every scrap of happiness to see his friend suddenly gone. Even Remi had high standards for him, and yet she was one of the closest people to him. He was so tired of this. But again, he could barely blame her at all. 

“I guess so.” 

Remi didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, but the next thing she said caught his full attention.

“A new student is transferring here next week.”

“What?”

“I know, right?”

This was new. New students very rarely transferred into the academy, especially in the middle of the school year, much less. 

“Who said that?” asked Arlo, keeping his voice low. 

“The headmaster held a meeting with the top five elites. You were nowhere to be found, so the headmaster told us not to look for you, that you were probably busy. That was almost two days ago.”

“And I’m only finding out about this now? No one bothered to tell me?”

“I’m sorry. You know how they are. I couldn’t get into contact with you, and I had several exams to study for. I’m really sorry, Arlo.”

Arlo took a deep breath and ran a hand through his golden-blonde, wavy locks. _W_ _hy am I always the last one to know about things like this?_

“Alright. What do you know about this new student?”

Remi brought one of her knees to her chest and rested her chin on it. 

“Well, we don’t know a lot about him. We know that his name is John, that he’s around 17 years old and is a second year-”

Arlo’s head snapped around and he raised his hand to stop Remi. 

“Hold on. _S_ _econd year?_ But how? He’s seventeen, though.”

Remi nodded, playing with a long pink strand of her hair.

“Yeah. Maybe he was held back at his old school or something.”

“Maybe…? What else do you know about him?”

“Not much else. We don’t even know where he comes from. Not even his last name or rank. We only know his first name, his age...and that he has no passive at all.”

Arlo squinted at Remi. 

“No notable record? No passive? Really? So basically, he’s useless. How did he get accepted into this school? What was Vaughn even thinking?"

Remi just shrugged helplessly. 

“The headmaster wouldn’t tell us anything else.”

“It’s alright. It's not your fault.” 

Arlo stood up, brushing his clothes off, feeling a sudden urge to be alone. 

“I’ll be going now. I need to think. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Remi just sighed and stood up too. 

“Take it easy, okay? See you.”

Arlo just nodded and turned away, heading towards the dorms. Everyone scattered from his way, and it took him a minute to realize that his fists were clenched and he was taking quick, tight steps instead of long, confident strides like normal. He forced himself to relax, to fall into his usual pace. His face showed no sign of his inner turmoil. 

This was seriously getting to his head. The stress of being perfect, the stress of being number one was taking a serious toll on him. And now the news of a new transfer student with an unknown history and the strange condition of having no passive was grating on his mind. He didn't even know that was possible. Entering the boy’s dorm building, he watched as the few people in the halls made leeway for him, pressing themselves against the walls to get out of his way, clustering together in the corners, watching him, whispering about him. Some were murmurs of admiration and respect, some of spite and hatred. 

Take it easy, huh? Right.

Arlo didn’t know how much longer he could last. 


	2. part two- puzzle pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two is finally here! Almost 4K words with this chapter to make up for the long wait, hope you enjoy! :)

Loading part two. . .

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1:49 AM, WELLSTON BOYS DORMITORY, 75° INDOORS

Open books and papers with neat lines of writing were scattered across his desk, the only sounds in his bedroom being the shuffling of pages, the scratching of a pencil, and the clock ticking. A ridiculously bright desk lamp beamed down at his work, so bright Arlo could see the shimmer of graphite on his papers. 

Tonight, his mind was in a jumble. He was looking at the information in front of him, but his brain refused to process it, instead drifting off to the conversation he had had with Remi earlier. Every time he tried to focus, he would find himself dwelling on it again. He had no idea why it was bugging him so much. A new student was transferring. So what? 

The thing was, Wellston was a difficult academy to get into. The chance of acceptance was slim. Although there were a number of more fragile, lower social class students enrolled, that was thanks to an incompetent headmistress who made Wellston like any other school. They faced bullying nearly everyday for their weakness and status, and Arlo didn’t understand why the current headmaster didn’t simply eject them out of the academy. This school was meant for higher-rankers, people who could actually stand a chance in the hostile, competitive environment. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone in the end?

This led his mind back to the mysterious transfer student. John. Who was he? Remi had said that the headmaster gave them very little information about him. After a moment, Arlo reached over and picked up a clean sheet of lined paper. If he wasn’t going to focus on his studies, he wasn’t going to sit around, thinking idly either. Clicking out a new length of lead from his pencil, he began to write in short, quick strokes. 

_Name: John_

_Surname: ?_

_Age: 17 years old_

_Grade: second year_

_Passive: none_

_Rank: ?_

_Place of origin: ?_

Staring down at the words, Arlo could feel more confusion building up inside as he mulled them over. Something wasn't quite right here. Slowly, he began to write again, this time more slowly, more unsure. 

_How is it possible that he has no passive nor any mentioned distinguishing characteristics, but managed to get into a school such as Wellston, even with Vaughn's high standards?_

_Why is he seventeen years old, yet only in the second year? Is this a mistake, or something more? What had happened?_

_Why was Vaughn omitting so many details? I understand if he gave us just enough to paint a clear picture of this new student that he deemed fit, but with the amount of information he gave the elites, it makes it seem almost suspicious._

Biting down on the eraser of his pencil, Arlo began to think, scrambling his brain to come up with some kind of explanation for the questions in front of him.

If this John had no passive as Vaughn had said, as well as no distinct qualities...well, Remi had never confirmed nor denied that. John could have some sort of talent that would make up for a lack of a passive, and it would make sense that Vaughn hadn’t told the elites about it. After all, Vaughn was a concise person. He liked to get to the heart of the matter and leave out anything he didn’t see necessary to include. But again, if it was a major quality that would make his non-powered condition irrelevant, Vaughn would have at least mentioned it. He was only making John look bad in the elites’ eyes. But then again, this could still be the case.

Remi’s assumption that John had been held back was likely correct in this situation. It was the explanation that made the most sense. But then, that meant that John must have done bad enough in his classes that it resulted in him having to repeat at least one year. Grades were the second largest focal point in Wellston, and it wouldn’t make sense for the headmaster to accept such a student, despite their physical capabilities.

The more Arlo thought about it, the more questions he got.

Setting down the pencil with a loud _clack_ , Arlo buried his head in his arms, feeling overwhelmed. Why was this eating away at him as much it was? He still didn’t understand.

_"F_ _ocus_ _on yourself and your studies first. Do not allow yourself to be distracted, because distracted people make mistakes, and mistakes can be deadly. You should know that by now. Your mother would be disappointed in you if she could see you right now."_

He winced at the sudden, unpleasantly familiar voice, his hands tangling into his hair and pulling hard, trying to ground himself into reality again. The last thing he needed nor wanted at the moment was a mental trip back into his childhood.

He stayed that way for a few seconds, steadying his breathing, pulling himself under control again. Finally, Arlo heaved a sigh and slowly uncurled himself, starting to clean up his desk. He was obviously not going to get anything done tonight. Stacking up his textbooks neatly, he gathered up all of his loose papers and tapped them into a single, clean pile, sliding the paper with the list under his North American Republic history notes. He stood up, stretching his arms out over his head, and nudged his chair under his desk with his leg, flicking the desk lamp off. 

Key pieces to the puzzle were missing, and Arlo didn't know where to start looking for them.

For the remainder of the night, sleep took a long time coming to his bed.

5:32 AM, WELLSTON ROOFTOOP, 39° OUTDOORS

Different hues of deep mauve were beginning to bleed into the sky, painting streaks into the dark blue of the early dawn sky, the stars slowly winking out one by one. The morning chill was penetrating to the core. The smooth concrete floor of the school rooftop was frigid under Arlo’s back, the cold from the ground seeping through his thin, teal blazer, gray vest and white button-up shirt, numbing his skin. He ignored it, not caring much. His hands were tucked behind his head, his blue eyes fixed onto the slowly changing sky, mind quiet for once.

As he watched, layers of pale pink began to peel away from the mauve, the color reminding Arlo of the carnations that used to grow in his grandmother’s garden. Tints of purple began mixing with the pinks, tinging the very edges of the sky, like the stroke of a colored pencil blending with a different hue. A light golden yellow began rising from the horizon and started pulling the two colors apart, fighting its way through until a cone of gold shone up, highlighting the smoky gray wisps of clouds floating about.

A large white orb of light began rising, visibly turning a deep, fiery orange and erasing any last remnants of the dark midnight blue left in the sky. The watercolor painting of the heavens melted into a light, mesmerizing cerulean blue, the sun slowly rising up into the clouded, colorful backdrop. Warm and blinding light broke over the edge, spilling over, illuminating the whole world. The rosy underbellies of the grayish clouds rolled back, turning a pure, snow white color.

Arlo let out a breath, closing his eyes and simply enjoying the moment, basking in the early morning sunshine, letting it warm his body. The early morning was his favorite time of the day. There was something therapeutic about just being alone, watching the sunrise, free from any crushing burdens at the moment. 

_At the moment._

Then it was back to his usual life. Back to the expectations, back to the stress, back to the heavy feeling in his gut that wouldn't ever leave him alone. Arlo deflated with a sigh, covering his face with his hands, digging his fingers into the crown of his scalp. 

_“Remember, Arlo. You are a high ranker. You belong to the upper elite class, and you will act as such. I will not tolerate my son acting like any common citizen. You are a born fighter and leader and I wish to see you advance your natural talents and passive as far as possible. You must strive to be exemplary at all times. Do not disappoint me, or there will be repercussions. Am I understood?”_

_A young, shorter Arlo stood ramrod straight before a tall, imposing man, tremoring fingers gingerly touching his freshly bruised and swelling cheek in shock, eyes wide in fear. After a few seconds, he bowed his head, trying to hide the small tears that were glimmering in the corners of his eyes._

_“...Yes, father. I understand.”_

_Somehow, he had managed to keep his voice steady, despite his trembling body and flip-flopping stomach._

_"Good, I am glad. I expect you to better next time. You are dismissed.”_

_The young boy carried himself out of the study on shaky legs, quietly shutting the door as he left. When he reached his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him, he stood still for a few seconds, his back pressed up against the solid, carefully polished oak door. Then his legs were buckling underneath his body and he slid to the floor, burying his face into his scratched-up knees and trying his best not to cry._

Arlo grit his teeth, inhaling sharply as if the memory had physically pained him, pressing his lips into a firm line. He was trying to stifle the memories, trying to shove them back into the corner of the mental closet where they belonged. Sitting up, he took several deep breaths in and out, shutting his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying his best to keep himself under control. He couldn’t break. Not here, not now, not ever. He had to be strong. 

He wished he didn't have to be.

12:42 PM, WELLSTON CAMPUS LIBRARY, 74° INDOORS 

Most of the school day passed uneventfully, minutes melting into each other, slogging on seemingly endlessly. During his free hour, he had holed himself up in the school library, reading anything he could get his hands on, trying to get his forever-worried mind off of everything. Off of his impending deadlines, off of the transfer student situation, off of his intrusive memories that seemed especially intent on haunting him today. He normally had a good grip on them, but today, nothing was going the way it should have. 

Arlo closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand over his face, the other hand keeping the book open and flat against the surface of the table he was sitting at, letting out a tiny sigh.

“Excuse me, Arlo?”

He hadn’t noticed, but a bloodred-haired boy had approached him and was standing in front of his table, waiting for Arlo to acknowledge his presence. 

Arlo jumped a bit, snapped out of his trance, finding himself staring at Blyke’s face. 

“Oh, Blyke. Can I help you with something?”

Blyke Atreus was in the top tier of elites, ranking at the bottom of the list. He was headstrong and impulsive, but a blunt, honest, and transparent person. His passive involved manipulating his own energy to increase his speed and strength, as well as accelerating his healing processes. He was brave and admirable in some aspects, but Arlo privately thought Blyke needed some work on his anger management skills. 

Blyke made a small bow as a sign of respect and began to speak, his voice low and steady.

“The headmaster told me to give this to you.”

Blyke slid a neatly folded paper across the desk and stepped away. Arlo blinked and looked down at his current page, forming his face into his usual cold, blank stare. He was pretty sure he knew what this was about. Dog-earing the page and closing the book, he set it aside and reached for the paper, unfolding it with a crinkle. Blyke coming to him was nothing out of the ordinary. The headmaster often used the elites as couriers to the others, no matter their status. It was more convenient and sped up the flow of information between them all. On the paper was written a few sentences, the handwriting looking as if it were stamped out by a printer. Maybe it was. Arlo couldn't tell.

_Arlo-_

_I would like to meet with you at precisely 1:15 in the afternoon today. It is of utmost importance._ _Thank you._

_Headmaster Vaughn._

Utmost importance, huh? Glancing up, he saw Blyke slightly fidgeting with his sleeve, cadmium yellow eyes affixed on him, as if trying to gauge his reaction. He must have already known what Vaughn wanted. 

“Thank you, Blyke. You’re free to go.”

Arlo kept his poker face until Blyke had slipped out of the doors to the library, his footsteps light on the carpeted surface. Of course. Arlo should have expected this. If Vaughn hadn’t managed to catch him into a meeting with the elites, he would have requested a face-to-face meeting to get Arlo caught up on what he had missed. A glance at the clock told him that he had a little bit less than half an hour left before his scheduled meeting. Arlo refolded the note and slipped it into his pocket, standing up and slinging the bag over his shoulder as the first bell for the first post-lunch class rang. As an afterthought, he picked up the book, slipping it back onto the shelf that he had gotten it from, not bothering to finish it. 

The halls were congested with students, some dressed in the standard school uniform, others in the freer, looser black uniform for more physical-oriented classes. Everyone made way for him, and for once Arlo wished he could simply blend in with the masses. To his surprise, a hand grabbed his wrist from behind. Turning, he saw Remi standing there, almost grinning up at him. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, the blue satin ribbon tied into a bow around the hair tie. She was dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and dark gray camouflaged-print standard cargo pants, a belt fastening them in place around her waist. The cuffs were neatly tucked into her combat boots, a black jacket draped over her arm. The outfit looked something similar to his own from yesterday. It looked like she was headed to a somatic-aligned class, if he guessed correctly. 

“I heard you were going to speak to the headmaster later on today.”

Arlo cocked his head slightly.

“How did you know that?”

“I passed Blyke and Isen while heading back from the water fountain at lunch. I asked them where they were going. Isen was there to help him find you, before you ask.”

Remi let go of Arlo’s wrist, pushing her bangs out of her eyes and tucking a strand behind her ear, shifting her weight to her other leg. 

“I see. Yes, he asked to talk to me. I do wonder what it’s about.” He muttered the last part sarcastically, crossing his arms across his chest. Remi let out a soft snort and rolled her eyes, elbowing him lightly. 

“Anyways, I wanted to ask you if you want to go out for drinks later on today?” 

Arlo paused for a second, opening his mouth for a second, then closing it again. Finally, he answered, his tone apologetic.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a test tomorrow and I need to study for it.”

Arlo wasn’t lying. It was true, he really did. He would rather spend some time with Remi, but he knew that wasn’t what his father would want him to do. Arlo couldn’t say no to him. He was under his thumb, under his control, even when they were hundreds of miles apart.

“Oh. Alright then.” Remi visibly deflated, pouting for few moments. 

“Sorry.” Arlo murmured unhelpfully. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He had purposefully kept Remi close (even though he had pushed everyone else away) because of his close connection with Rei. Now he was beginning to create a rift between him and his best and only friend without meaning or wanting to. 

“It’s okay.” Remi patted his arm, the smile returning to her face. “There’s always a next time!”

“Right…” Arlo trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Well, I’m going to head to class before Wright bites my head off for being late. See you around, Arlo!”

With that, Remi jogged off, tugging her jacket on around her petite frame as she left, waving at him before turning away. Arlo closed his eyes for a few seconds and let out a small breath before walking the last few steps to his class. Stepping inside, he ignored the burning stares and fleeting whispers, taking his seat near the middle of the class. Keeping an eye on the clock, he made sure to keep his posture straight and expression vacant as usual. He had just walked in, and yet he wanted to get out of here. He didn’t want to spend another second in this room, with the fearful snatches of glances and blatant stares that they thought he didn't notice, with the tense atmosphere that seemed to follow him everywhere he went.

_"It’s only natural. You are meant to be feared. Something is wrong if they aren’t afraid.”_

One-fifteen couldn’t come quickly enough. 

-

Arlo was greeted with the secretary that sat in a small room outside of Headmaster Vaughn’s office. The woman nodded at him in a curt ‘hello’, having him clock in, filling his name, the date, and the time in the chart fastened to the clipboard. She then pressed a button on her office phone and picked up the receiver, pressing it to her ear with her shoulder. She began typing into her computer, and Arlo could hear a phone ring in the other room. A few seconds later, it ceased.

“Yes, sir. He’s here. Alright.”

The secretary hung up the phone and glanced back at Arlo.

“Go on in. The headmaster is waiting for you.”

Arlo nodded slightly and opened the door to Vaughn’s study, stepping inside and closing the heavy door behind him. Looking up, he noticed the headmaster seated behind his enormous, ornately carved cherrywood desk. A single manila folder lay on the surface of the table, next to a phone similar to the one on the secretary’s desk. A white teacup and saucer edged with golden rims sat near the folder, filled with steaming amber liquid. Another, separate stack of papers stood off to the side, a simple black paperweight holding them down. The ambience of the room was heavy and foreboding, reminding him of a place he would very much like to forget every time he walked into this room.

“Come sit, Arlo.”

Arlo swallowed and took a seat in front of the man’s desk. The headmaster’s green, unsettlingly watchful gaze followed his every move, making Arlo feel very uncomfortable. 

“You wanted to see me, sir.”

“Indeed. I do believe that one of the elites have already informed you, but we have a new student transferring here soon.”

“I’m aware. Remi told me about this earlier.”

“I thought one of them would. I would have slated you for a meeting earlier, but I am, as you may be aware, a very busy man. This was the only open time slot I could find.”

“I understand.”

Arlo shifted in his chair, wondering what Vaughn would say next. 

“What did Remi tell you about the student?” Vaughn spoke briskly, folding his hands deliberately, adjusting his posture. His tone had changed. The formalities were over. It was time to get to the point.

Arlo took a breath, trying to get his thoughts into order.

“Well, she told me that his name is John, that he is around seventeen years old, a second year, and passiveless. That’s about it.”

“Indeed. Arlo, because you are my top elite, I have decided that it would be appropriate to share a bit more information about John, as transfer students are an incredibly rare occasion. Go ahead and read through this.”

The headmaster slid the folder across the desk to Arlo, who accepted it, blinking in surprise. 

“Alright.”

Arlo cracked open the folder, suddenly feeling a bit apprehensive. A small photograph and two sheets of paper lay inside. He lay it on the edge of the desk and took the photo into his hands, looking closer. It was an image of a boy who looked roughly Arlo’s age. He had unkempt, pitch-black hair, dark goldenrod-colored eyes, and pale skin. He seemed to be glaring the slightest bit into the camera, his gaze chilling. Arlo glanced up at the headmaster.

“Is this John?”

The headmaster only nodded in reply.

Arlo looked back down, setting the photograph aside after another second of examining it. Turning his attention to the papers, he skimmed through the first one, which highlighted what Remi had told him yesterday. The second one seemed to go into more detail, however. 

_Name: John Doe_

_Age: Seventeen years_

_Rank: Low_

_Grade: Ten_

_Passive: N/A_

_Home city and/or province: New Bostin_

_Family: Deceased mother, living father. No other relations recorded._

_Notes: John makes up for his weaknesses with his physical strength. He is very fluent in martial arts and knows how to defend himself very well._

So it seemed that his initial assumption about something making up for his missing passive was correct...wait a minute. Arlo scanned the paper again, this time reading more slowly, more carefully. Then, he noticed it. Right there, in black and white. 

**_Rank: Low_ **

Slowly, Arlo lifted his gaze, looking Vaughn dead in the eye. 

“John is a...low-ranker?”

The headmaster’s face remained blank, but there was something else in his gaze now. 

“Yes, Arlo. John is a low-ranker. Is there some sort of issue at hand?”

“This school is meant for middle-rankers and above, though! Why would you let a-” 

Arlo was interrupted by the headmaster lifting his hand, indicating that Arlo stop. He fell silent, waiting for an explanation. 

“I thought that you would react this way. My reasons for admitting a low-ranker into this academy are private to me. However, I will tell you this. I have personally met John before. He is a charismatic, impressive individual for his status and I do not doubt that he can defend himself against a bully, passiveless or not. I see much potential in him, though he is at a disadvantage. Do you understand?”

Arlo remained quiet, rereading the information again. Finally, he exhaled softly and answered. 

“Yes, sir. Is this all you wanted from me?”

“Yes, I believe that is all for now. I will call you back if I have anything else to share.”

Arlo placed the contents back into the folder, shutting it. Then, he paused, keeping a hand on the file. 

“Am I allowed to hold onto this?”

“You are permitted to keep it. Do not share this information with anyone outside of the elites, please. Only if you must. And keep the number limited. I would highly appreciate it. After all, I did give them less information for a specific reason.”

Arlo nodded, picking the folder up and brushing off his uniform with his free hand.

“Have a good day, sir.”

“You as well.”

Arlo exited the headmaster’s office, mind spinning. Before he left, he glanced back. Vaughn had already busied himself, writing on a piece of paper, his left hand reaching for the teacup. The secretary was still at her desk and paid him no mind, absorbed in her work. Closing the door to the outer office behind him, Arlo stood in the hallway for a second, the folder heavy in his hand. 

This meeting had answered some of his questions, but he still had more to ask. His first order of business?

Contact Isen. 

There was something very wrong with this situation, and Arlo wanted to find out what was really going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing the flashback with Arlo's dad: Man, John is gonna have so much fun punting this guy into a trash can when he finds out about this :DD
> 
> .
> 
> So...hello again. Sorry for not updating in so long. Time really flies, doesn't it? This chapter is a bit boring, I know. However, I need it to to get the plot moving without making it feel abrupt. I think I've got a pretty definite plan for this story, so let's see if I actually manage to write it out. This is a big project for me, but I'm having fun doing it. Kind of.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Caelan


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